


Left to Rust (Oaths to Break)

by lonerofthepack



Series: What the Water Gave Me 'verse [5]
Category: Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them (Movies)
Genre: "Don't say goodbye", Gen, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Implied/Referenced Torture, Isolation, Suicidal Ideation, Whumptober 2020, abandoned
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-07
Updated: 2020-10-07
Packaged: 2021-03-08 01:42:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 818
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26877631
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lonerofthepack/pseuds/lonerofthepack
Summary: For the 2020 whumptober prompt: Where Did Everybody Go? “Don’t Say Goodbye” | Abandoned | IsolationThe oaths, of course, were a double-edged sword. Break them, breathe a single word of his people, anything that could give a fairy-hunter or bride-seeker the scent, and the Chief would know. He was abandoned for the sake and safety of hundreds— breaking his oaths would be a final warning: run.He closed his eyes, and resigned himself to wait a little longer.A short prelude set after Lay Me Down (Overflow) and before What the Water Gave Me (I Took and Gladly).
Series: What the Water Gave Me 'verse [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1948162
Kudos: 23
Collections: Whumptober 2020





	Left to Rust (Oaths to Break)

**Author's Note:**

> Uh...pretty much what it says on the tin. An additional warning: Percival contemplates a lack of stoicness under torture as failure and weakness, and contemplates the consequences of breaking magical oaths. As always, your mileage may vary.

The oaths, of course, were a double-edged sword. Break them, breathe a single word of his people, anything that could give a fairy-hunter or bride-seeker the scent, and the Chief would know.

She wouldn't send anyone, if he broke; he knew that, in the part of his head that wasn't weighing what might be offered in appeasement to delay the pain. Wouldn't send anyone, wouldn't come.

Couldn't.

He was abandoned for the sake and safety of hundreds— breaking his oaths would be a final warning: run, flee. Hide the children, go careful and quiet into the cover of night. Don't wait to say goodbye-- _go_.

He was terribly thankful for it. He'd never doubted the wisdom of such a failsafe; had nodded and agreed easily enough, nearly two decades ago--why risk it? He'd had his choices about the matter, had chosen the training, the mission, the work--then, he'd would never have chosen to let pain change his mind. He hadn't changed his mind a decade ago, either, or five years ago--or at the cusp of spring, when he'd sworn afresh.

He'd never resented it either, not until the pain had settled in in earnest, fear making itself part of his bones.

Even aching, even hating--oh, everyone: Grindelwald for hurting him and Tierney for leaving him and Seraphina Picquery for not realizing, and Grindelwald again, and himself for not realizing--even bloody-mouthed and snarling promises of vengeance, he was glad. Even burning with shame, as acid bright as flame, he was terribly glad that failing wouldn't betray them.

Tierney would know what he told— every secret he offered up a line of blood dashed on cold stone to offer up his failure. There were a few of those secrets that would simply kill him--he'd want them to, even as he weighed the difference between the agony Grindelwald inflicted and the spectral unpleasantness of drowning, hot copper in his lungs and filling his mouth, self-inflicted and as final as he could engineer.

Even if he lived through it-- and there was no guarantee he would. Even for one of the lesser oaths, it was start a cascade of magical severance, and breaking so many bonds with his clan, all in a single go, could well stop his heart, especially with no pelt to help cushion it — even if he lived through it, he'd not be allowed home. 

He'd never see the new lives they built. A few might come to him— his parents, perhaps, when it was safe; Tierney, to help cauterize the grievous wounds that would be inflicted on his magic and tell him where he'd be permitted to settle, where he wouldn't encroach on the clan's space. None of the children he only got to see in snatches as they grew, not his cousins, no aunties or uncles.

They wouldn’t blame him— selkies had learned long ago that even the fiercest warrior or most loving mother would give under enough pressure, with enough pain. They wouldn’t blame him, not more than he'd blame himself.

It would kill him anyway. To live, to keep his people safe and still have broken his oaths, to have to bear the consequences -- not punishments, they didn't punish weakness, only malice, but those promises couldn’t be made a second time and an oathbreaker couldn't be allowed to endanger them again, had to live away and protect them with distance--and it would kill him. 

He'd lived distant from the clan for so long. He was going to die distant— Grindelwald would suck him dry, or go too far, or leave him for too long— longer still than the hazy slide of light to dark to light again.

The room had been empty an awfully long time -- Grindelwald didn't come so often these days, and when he did come, it hurt. But it hurt when he didn't, too-- the gnaw of an empty belly wasn't less painful than too-full, than the burning scrape of teeth and nails, than the sting-and-throb of blows. The pressure of silence hurt differently than the cut of rope on his wrists, and the chill burn of iron, but it hurt all the same.

His mouth was terribly dry; hunger had become that same sort of pounding ache as the rest of him.

Regret was a prickly pain, spiking now and then as his thoughts drifted and sleep alluded him. The weight of his youngest cousins, the warmth of his father's hugs. Meals that weren't lonely. The flash of fire-gold hair and a sea-glass gaze. The thrill of flutes. The liquid rush of magic in his fingers.

He wondered if his pelt would ignite when he went, if there was enough magic left in him for that final act of defiance, or if Grindelwald would get a trophy out of him after all.

He closed his eyes, and resigned himself to wait a little longer.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you very much!


End file.
